


Tigers on Vaseline

by Soulstarsinger (soulstar)



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Gen, Is it beer o'clock yet?, Sam wishes it was right about now, Season/Series 01, The Gene Genie has a theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-16
Updated: 2006-04-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulstar/pseuds/Soulstarsinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is Sam Tyler really? Gene has his very own theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tigers on Vaseline

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from Hang onto Yourself by David Bowie (Ziggy Stardust, 1972).  
> Many thanks to the lovely Miss S and Clarey_h for their invaluable beta help.  
> SPOILERS: Only very vaguely for season one - nothing specific.  
> DISCLAIMER: Not mine, more's the pity. Sam, Gene, & _Life on Mars_ in general belong to Kudos and The Beeb.

It was, Sam thought, definitely one of those days. The grey, overcast weather outside had somehow crept into the atmosphere of the office, making the place feel even more oppressive than usual. The Guv was prowling about his office, temper on edge about something. Everyone was keeping their heads down and trying to stay well out of his way.

"'Spect his missus wasn't having any of it, last night," Ray muttered to Chris, who snickered guiltily.

The storm had to break at some point, though.

"Tyler! In here, now."

Sam sighed. No surprise that it had ended up being on his head, really. He ignored the smirks that several of the other detectives sent in his direction, obviously relieved that he was the one to get the bollocking that the Guv had been working up to all morning.

When Sam pushed open the office door, Gene was standing in front of his desk, his stance belligerent.

"What the hell d'you call this?" he demanded, stabbing a finger at a perfectly innocent-looking sheet of paper.

Sam skirted around him and examined the sheet. Um. Okay. "It's an incident report." It was also a standard, completely innocuous piece of paperwork. The Guv must be really spoiling for a fight.

"You think it's funny to waste my time with this sort of thing? To waste the time of my team on typing up this rubbish when they should be out doing actual police work?"

Sam could have sworn they'd had this argument already, more than once. He also thought they'd come to a sort of compromise about it all, but apparently he was wrong. Or maybe this was his subconscious rebelling against all the paperwork he had to do in his real life. It was a shame it hadn't picked a method to do it which didn't involve Gene Hunt breathing fire at him from two paces away.

"It's not a waste of time," he replied, keeping his tone as calm and patient as he could. "If we do this now, it might well save us time later on."

"Oh yeah? When..." The Guv glanced down at the report, "little Jimmy Robson grows up into a right hard nut, you're going to bring up the time he put a cricket ball through Mrs Kemp's front window as proof of his lifelong criminal tendencies, are you?"

Sam shook his head, exasperated. "Oh, come on Gene. We've got to keep proper records. Paperwork's always been part of the job."

"Your job, maybe. If you like it so much, maybe you should take over looking after the stationery cupboard from Ray. Or better still, join the Typing Pool."

"Don't be bloody ridiculous," Sam snapped, taking an angry step forward. Fine, if the Guv wanted a fight, he had one. "In my.... where I come from-"

The Guv snorted. "Oh, I was wondering how soon you'd throw that little gem up. Go on then, tell me how much better they do it in _Hyde_. Oh, and while you're at it, why don't you tell me where you're really banging on about, and who you really are?"

Sam stopped dead in his mental tracks. "What?"

"You heard me. I've been onto your old department, Sammy-boy, and guess what? You don't exist." Hunt glared at him, challengingly.

Sam felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. The words may as well have been a punch to the gut. He staggered backwards, blood draining from his face and to his churning stomach so fast that it made his head spin. "I do. It's you that... I _do_ exist."

"Oh yeah? Where did you spring from then? Tell me that. Because no-one in Hyde has ever heard of you."

Struggling to pull himself together, Sam took a deep breath, curling his ice-cold fingers into clammy palms. So this was what the Guv's bad temper today had been about. Hunt wasn't being literal about him not existing, of course he wasn't. But what could he tell him? The truth? Hardly. At last he looked up and met the other man's eye. "You've seen my transfer papers," he prevaricated.

"Mmm. And they're very good. Fooled me. But you and I both know they're not real. Are they?"

A half-hysterical laugh escaped Sam before he choked it off. "They're about as real as anything else in this place!"

The Guv made a scornful noise. "Oh, come on, stop pissing around, Sam. The gig's up: you might as well tell me. How did you get them papers to transfer here? And who are you really? Is Sam Tyler even your name?"

"Of course it is." Sam closed his eyes briefly. What the hell was he going to do? If he made up another lie, it would be discovered. The Guv was bound to check on anything he said.

"Well?" Clearly the Guv wasn't going to give him any time to think, either. Which made sense - Sam would do the exact same thing in his position.

"My papers say that I came from Hyde." He had to buy himself some time.

"The bloody false papers!" the Guv roared, lunging forward and grabbing Sam's lapels, shaking him like a terrier with a rat, barely rocking back when Sam tried to push him away. "If you were really from Hyde," he continued at a more normal volume, "and this was some prank by your old department, you'd be on the phone to them by now getting it sorted out. But you didn't even suggest that, did you?"

Sam swayed as the Guv dropped him and turned away, disgust on his face. He had to calm down, to try and think about this logically, but it wasn't easy with his heart pounding in his ears, and a creeping numbness in his limbs from lack of blood. He took another deep breath, then another.

"When did you speak to Hyde?" he asked quietly, when he thought he could control his voice.

"Last night." The Guv sounded tired, suddenly, but when he turned back towards Sam his face was still set in angry lines. "Thought they might have something we could use on the Wilson case. I was going to get you to ring 'em - thought you might like to chat to your old chums. But you'd taken yourself off, so I did it myself. See how close you came to getting away with it again?"

Sam nodded, unable to look his boss in the face. There really was no way he could explain this without coming off as a liar or a lunatic. Or both. What the hell did this mean - was this the point where his imagination had run up short? Perhaps he should have followed his hunch in the first days he landed up here, and walked until he found his way out. Or perhaps he'd just had to wait for long enough. Until now, when his identity, his existence in this time, fell apart. Was this when he was finally going to be able to wake up? Reflexively, he looked up at the ceiling, expecting to hear the beep and swish of hospital machinery. But the only sound in the room was the Guv's angry breathing, and his own, rapid like his heartbeat with the after-effects of panic.

"Look at me!" The Guv thrust his face at Sam so hard and fast that Sam had to flinch back to avoid being head-butted. "I want some answers, _now_."

What was he supposed to say?  
The truth as Sam knew it would make the Guv assume he was either taking the piss, or crazy. To lie would feel like he was finding reasons to stay here. Yet, he didn't want to lie to Gene, not any more. Sam gave him the truest answer that he could. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" The Guv was bellowing again, his face still inches from Sam's and getting redder by the second. "I've had an impostor acting as my DI, poncing around my department for months, being _trusted_ by every man here, and all you can tell me is that you're bloody _sorry_? You'd better give me more than that, sunshine. What you doing here? Who you working for?"

Sam closed his eyes, then met Gene's again. Truth. Stick with the truth. Just not the part of the truth that would have him in a straightjacket before he could say two thousand and six. "I'm working for you, Guv, as your DI."

"Don't smart-mouth me, you little bastard. Have you been laughing behind our backs that you took us all in?" When Sam just shook his head in mute denial, he continued, almost talking to himself as he took a half-step backwards then paced a tight circle, "I should've picked up on it. That load of bollocks you were spouting when you made a collar - that was a bloody great neon sign."

"It's just different here," Sam protested automatically.

"Different to where?" the Guv shot back, yelling again as he faced him. "You're going to tell me if I have to beat it out of you."

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Gene-" he began, hating that his tone came out pleading.

The Guv leaned forward, the intensity of his stare following through into his tone. "So help me Sam, I'm _this_ far away from banging you up for impersonating a police officer. Tell me what the hell this is, or I'll do it."

This time he could not suppress the hysteria. "Go ahead then. Why don't you?" There was nothing else he could say; no explanation he could offer. What little control Sam once had over his life here felt like it had slipped away for good. He might feel as if he'd just been hit by another speeding car, but there was no sign that he was waking up. It looked like he was still stuck here. What would happen now, he asked himself? They would investigate him, and presumably discover that no such person as Sam Tyler existed in 1973 at all. He could actually end up in prison with no identity and even less of a future. Christ, he was completely screwed.

"Why don't I?" Abruptly, Gene stepped back, out of Sam's personal space. "Because you're not, that's why."

Sam blinked at him, trying to gather his thoughts back from the unpleasant possibilities that seemed to be ahead of him. He thought he'd felt lost a moment ago, but now he was feeling positively dizzy. He was not, what?

Gene scowled at him, almost seeming to deflate slightly as he leaned on his desk. "Any idiot can see you're a copper through and through. For all you act like you're from another bloody planet at times. So why say you were from Hyde?"

Sam gave a helpless shrug. "I didn't," he held up a hand when the Guv looked like he might explode again. "It was just what was on the papers. So I went along with it."

Gene considered that for a moment. "All right. Then where did you come here from? Why are you here? Are you spying on us? Did RCS plant you here?"

Sam started. "No! I told you Guv; I'm not working for anyone else. That's the truth."

Gene nodded, regarding him steadily as he waited for an answer to the rest of the question.

Sam bit his lip, then took the plunge, hoping he wasn't about to blow the get out of jail free card that his DCI seemed to be offering him. "I can't tell you where I came here from. I swear, if there was any way I could, I would." Being from the future wasn't likely to feature in the Gene Hunt book of acceptable explanations.

"You're asking a lot, Sam, considering you've got nothing to bargain with." Gene's face was closed, giving nothing away.

Sam met his eyes, unwaveringly. "I know."

"Hmm." The Guv pursed his lips slightly. "Are you going to tell me what brought you here?"

"I don't know, Guv. This is just where I... where I landed up. I don't know why here, why now." More truth, unfortunately.

"I do," Gene replied, leaning casually against his desk as if he hadn't just given Sam the third heart-stopping shock he'd had in twenty minutes. "At any rate, I've got a good idea. You're not the only one who can add two and two, Sammy-boy. How about I tell you my theory? Let me know if I'm getting warm." He crossed his arms and waited for Sam to agree.

Sam stared at him, completely bemused. "What is this, twenty questions?"

"Humour me. You owe me for not shopping your skinny arse the minute I caught wind of this whole thing."

Sam threw up his hands. "Okay, alright, whatever. Give it your best shot." His head was spinning again; he had to sit down before he fell down. He walked over to the battered sofa and dropped into one seat.

"This isn't bloody Jackanory," the Guv snapped, but he sounded more aggrieved than genuinely angry, and when Sam started to haul himself up again, he motioned him to stay put, and continued in an almost conversational tone.

"My guess is, you stuck your nose somewhere you shouldn't've. Got yourself noticed by someone high up, and were shipped off up here for your trouble. Should think somebody figured this place would be a nice little punishment for you."

Sam snorted, bleakly amused. "My own personal circle of hell?"

Gene grinned. "Nothing less than purgatory. So?"

Sam considered. Line up Gene's theory against the mystery of his arrival here, and, while he hoped that this wasn't some kind of punishment from his own subconscious or an unknown 'someone high up'... "Yeah, you're warm. You could say I got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hmm. Now I've got to wonder who _I_ pissed off, that I got saddled with you," Gene mused.

Sam cast him a jaundiced look. "You could probably narrow that down to everyone you've ever met."

"Ha bloody ha." Gene watched him thoughtfully for a moment. "Were you a DCI?"

Sam blinked at the unexpected question, and nodded.

"Hmm. I suppose that explains some of your snotty-nosed attitude, then. Can't say I'd be too impressed myself if I'd just been stripped of rank." The Guv's tone was surprisingly sympathetic, then became brisker as he continued. "Though I wouldn't have expected you to be one to take it lying down, Sam. Why haven't you fought it? Why didn't you come to me and tell me what you could?"

"There's nothing you could have done. I've done everything I've been able to think of. If I get a chance to... to sort things out, I will jump at it, Guv. No matter what it takes."

Gene gave a decisive nod. "Glad to hear it."

Silence fell, to be broken when Sam pushed himself to his feet. "You had this all worked out in your head before you even called me in here, didn't you?"

The Guv just shrugged one shoulder. "Wanted to see how you'd react."

All that panic, and it had been for nothing... except it now gave him something to be angry about. He knew where he was, being angry with Gene. "You _bastard_. You could've just told me what you suspected. You didn't have to-"

"Oi!" Gene interrupted. "Don't you go getting all self-righteous on me, Tyler. You're the one that's been lying to me for months, remember?"

Sam looked at the floor, his anger evaporating again. "I had to."

"Yeah, well. I had to do this the way that I did. All right?" Gene's hand grasped his shoulder. "Don't let the bastards grind you down, Sammy. You'll be back to DCI before you know it."

Sam looked up and gave him a wry grin. "I bloody hope so."

"Knowing my luck, you'll get this department when I make Super, and spend the rest of both our careers getting up my nose."

Sam couldn't help but shake his head, a little unbelievingly. That was it? The Guv was just going to accept his word that he wasn't a fake or a spy, and it was back-to-normal, like nothing had happened? Could Gene really have that much faith in him, despite everything? Relief battled with nausea as he realised that by agreeing with Gene's obliquely accurate theory, he seemed to have fixed the 'gap' in this reality. And possibly anchored himself there all the more securely.

"So, what now?" he asked.

"Now?" The Guv glanced at his watch. "Now, I'd say we've got just about enough time to get down the pub and sink a couple of stiff ones."

Trying to fully grasp what had just happened and what it might mean for his situation, Sam still hadn't moved an inch when his superior reached the door.

Gene glanced back over his shoulder. "Are you coming, or what?"

Sam sighed. "Trust the Gene Genie," he muttered under his breath. What else could he do? He went along. 

END


End file.
